next to the fire had been reddened by the heat while on the other side the
chill dew had settled and seemed to have paralyzed the muscles. Rations
began to trickle in. Some tents were rushed to the area. From the third
night on, most of the men were sleeping under canvas. Troops were still
pouring in. Gradually wood stoves and bedding rolls were secured.

Cots arrived and bedding rolls were finally lifted out of the mind. On
December 24th and 31st everybody was alerted and restricted to the area.
With the memories of the last year still fresh in their minds, and being
so near and yet so far from their homes, the troops spent the most
miserable Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve of their lives.

To all this came the news of the fatal crash at El Paso. Major Lewis and
his Executive Officer, Major E. P. Laubach, had been killed on take-off.
Both had won the respect of the officers and enlisted men of the entire
Group and by their hard-driving in peace-time they prolonged and in many
cases actually saved the lives of many crews and ships. To us they were
never "expendable".

When the air echelon arrived, more serious problems presented themselves.
Everything was to be dispersed and in a desert there is no lack of space.
The "line" was located about four miles from the tent area and since most
of the transportation had been commandeered to keep the supplies flowing
in, to most of the men it meant four weary miles on foot, in mud, in rain,
in the blazing desert noonday sun, or in the chill of the night.
Sandstorms, rain, and even hail made maintenance most difficult. B-26's
took off with full bomb loads under adverse conditions, and flew over
mountain ranges and hundreds of miles out to sea in all kinds of
weather-the first medium bombers to patrol the West Coast after the
outbreak of war.

On 31st January 1942 the ground echelons embarked from San Francisco for
the South-West Pacific with the picture of the fading San Francisco Bay
Bridge forever etched into their memories. Rumor bad it that the
destination was to be South America, or Java, or the Philippines, or even
Australia. After almost a month on the seas without touching a single port
en route, the troops finally disembarked at Brisbane, Queensland,
Australia, with the cries of "Sub attack!" and "The blackout is in effect.
You may dump the garbage now!" still ringing in their ears. Radios had
been confiscated for the voyage and the first sounds of good American
swing cheered everybody and made them feel a little at home. The
surprising rumors that Singapore had fallen and that the Philippines were
still holding out were found to be true. A week quickly passed amid prams,
trams, right-hand drives and left-hand driving, and larrikin cries of "Got
any souvenirs, Yank?" When local purchases were made and "six, tuppence,
ha'-penny" was demanded, hands dug into pockets to hold out big heavy
coins to see what would happen. Finally, the ground elements were
stationed at Amberley Field outside of Brisbane and Ipswich to await the
arrival of the planes.

Meanwhile the air echelons had tarried behind at March Field, California,
to see that their Marauders were crated and shipped aboard. On February
6th they left the States and arrived at Hick-am Field, T.H., in mid
February. Here the B-26's were reassembled and patrolling began. Two ships
of the 18th Reconnaissance Squadron were detained at Hawaii.

They were fated to be the first Army planes to make a torpedo attack. The
target was a